Sonata
by Liriel-eris
Summary: The boy who tried to seem worse than he was, the girl who laughed at him, and the rickety old piano that shifted equilibrium in all sorts of strange directions. GW/DM, AU
1. I

Summary: The boy who tried to seem worse than he was, the girl who laughed at him, and the rickety old piano that shifted equilibrium in all sorts of strange directions. GW/DM, AU

**A/N (18/07/09) I know I said I was going to post the edited version MONTHS ago. I really did mean to, ****my beta had it all nice and edited that same week, but RL did its thing, and I'm sure everyone knows how **_**that**_** is. But here it is, anyway. A big thanks to my beta, Ali, both for her marvellous editing, and the many, many wand jokes and innuendo alerts (Tee Hee).**

A/N: I was having a conversation about HP ships with a friend, when she announced that G/M would never work. We argued for ages, in fact we still haven't resolved it. So I wrote this story to prove her wrong, and because I could. This is AU, more or less ignoring the last two books. Voldemort is yet to strike and everyone is back at school. It was supposed to be ten pages at most, but this monstrosity grew in the telling.

**This is a oneshot, and meant to be read as such. I divided it into chapters to make it easier read, because it would have been too much as a single chapter.**

If I were to chose a song, or bits and pieces of one anyway, I'd say Emilie Autumn's "Faces Like mine" would go nicely with the coffee scene in part III.

Obviously I'm not a piano teacher. Just a bit of a music nerd. And creative licence comes into play.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe, characters, settings and all. I'm just having a bit off fun with it. Nor do I own the mythology contained in the story, though I don't think anyone can rightly lay claim to _that_.

The Sonata

By liriel-eris

_Sonata: A musical form in which the key is changeable, and the relationship of keys is important. A form allowing, and almost calling, for the bending or breaking of traditionally rigid aspects of music theory._

Like any other girl, Ginny Weasley liked dressing up. She daydreamed of balls and of twirling around in the arms of someone entirely wonderful. Even in the Wizarding world, there was something to be said about the promise of magic and romance (or maybe she'd stolen one too many of her mum's romance novels). So when she'd heard about the Yule ball, she immediately began brainstorming on how she could possibly go. She was only in third year, so she couldn't attend unless someone from the years above asked her.

At first she'd breathlessly hoped it would be Harry. Ginny was completely infatuated with The Boy Who Lived. There was just something about those green eyes, and the sparkle they seemed to hold. She liked his steely determination and how tall and _good_ he was. He was exactly the sort of dashing hero meant to sweep her off her feet. So she couldn't help looking dreamily after him when he walked by with his friends or played wizard chess with Ron by the fire.

She'd heard he liked another, the Ravenclaw girl, Cho Chang, but, still, every time she saw him, she gave him the brightest of smiles. Just in case.

Another issue was what to wear. Oh, what Ginny wouldn't give for one of those beautiful floaty dress robes she'd seen at Madame Malkins'. The kind that came in boxes stuffed full of pretty delicate tissue paper. She'd even taken a closer look at one when her mum wasn't looking, busy chatting to the seamstress. It was blue-grey and made of some sort of thin delicate silk. Her hand had glided wistfully over the fabric, as her eyes took in the exquisite cut. Of course there were nicer robe shops and lovelier cuts, but this was the finest she'd ever gotten close to.

"Ginny? What are you doing over there love? Come along." Her mum's voice cut through her reverie. Sighing faintly, Ginny moved away.

She wouldn't be getting the dress, of course. But it didn't matter. She might not get a chance to go at all. And even though it was a pretty dress, at the end of the day it was just a dress, and there were more important things in life. Her family had never had much money, and while that meant a lack of expensive dress robes, that also meant that Ginny had been brought up knowing that it wasn't a pretty robe that was the key to being happy.

In the end, Molly had found Ginny one of her own dress robes from when she had been a young girl. It was bright lilac and carefully preserved. She had smiled at Ginny, seeing the hopeful light in her eyes over getting to go to the dance. Ginny had smiled at her mum and thanked her, and spent the rest of the holidays waiting for them to be over so she could join her brother and their friends back at school. And maybe, just maybe, go to the dance.

OOO

She'd laughed at him at the Yule ball. _Laughed._ Pancy was been hanging on his arm, muttering something about Bulstrode's dress robes out of the corner of her mouth. Which was a pity, because Parkinson could be perfectly bearable when she wasn't gossiping. He was trying not to look pained as his eyes scanned the decorated hall, looking for…well, anything even remotely entertaining, really, when his eyes met a pair of amused brown ones. Weasley appeared to be laughing at him. She certainly seemed much more amused than anyone dancing with Longbottom and wearing dress-robes twenty years out of date in a colour to burn the corneas, had a right to be.

He was about to send a snarl her way, but before he knew what was happening, another couple spun in front of the redhead and Longbottom, and she was gone from sight. Malfoy scowled.

The sheer audacity both astounded and infuriated him. How could _she_ laugh at _him_? His robes alone cost more than her entire house. Not to mention he wasn't the one hobbling ridiculously across the floor. He couldn't help but scan the crowd for her every now and then, just to see if she'd dare laugh again.

OOO

For her part Ginny couldn't help it. Malfoy had come to the dance with Parkinson (who wore a pretty pale _floaty_ concoction that flattered her hair, though Ginny thought green was a bit predictable), and when Ginny caught the tortured look on Malfoy's pale face, looking more pinched than usual with sheer despair as Parkinson chattered on, blissfully unaware, she couldn't help but be amused. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

She could only imagine that it wasn't much fun to be Draco Malfoy, it couldn't be easy to have to be a prat _all _the time. Neville was all over her feet, but he was starting to relax and get the hang of the dancing, and he really could be funny when he wasn't having a panic attack.

Harry hadn't asked her. But Neville_ had_, and though Ron had pulled faces over the fact Ginny didn't care. She got to go to the ball, and even though she looked nothing like the exquisite Veela girl with her hair like spun moonlight, and even though her date didn't make her heart hammer furiously in her chest, she intended to have fun.

And so have fun she did, laughing with Neville over some herbology story he was telling her. Apparently some sort of imported fern had tried to eat his shoelaces. He was a much better dancer when he stopped thinking about it, and she really did love to dance. It was something about the way the music swirled around her.

Every now and then she glanced around to see if she could spot Malfoy, staring petulantly out into the crowd. She had no idea why his misery had caught her attention as it did.

OOO

"You laughed at me." He accused, lifting his chin, challenging her to deny it. His voice was cold and distant, the arrogance that she had come to expect whenever she heard him speak did not fail to show. His arms were folded across his chest, and she knew his right hand gripped his wand. Of course, he knew that she knew. That had been the whole point, after all.

They were alone in the corridor, no-one to take sides should things turn nasty as they so often did, where Gryffindor/Slytherin interactions were concerned. Her eyes, an _unremarkable_ brown, Malfoy observed absently, were amused.

His eyes were narrowed in annoyance, which Ginny was surprised to find she rather preferred to his usual grey icyness.

Snorting softly, she completely disregarded the threat, "I did. Hardly surprising, I did, too. You should have seen the look on your face, Malfoy. I don't think I've ever witnessed quite that degree of ennui, and that's including three years' worth of Binns' classes." Having said that, she flashed him an amused smirk and carried on her way.

Ginny almost-skipped airily past him, while he remained standing, speechless.

Actually that hadn't been the only reason she had laughed. She had also felt rather sorry for how pained he looked when everyone else was obviously having fun. From what she could make out, a lot of Malfoy's sulkiness and misery was caused by his own attitude. Or what he felt his attitude ought to be. But she didn't tell him _that_.

He watched her step lightly around the corner and disappear, and though for the rest of the week he went on glaring at her, narrow eyed, for her perceived insult, she did not seem to give his glares a shred of notice.

For her part, Ginny found it amusing, the boy who was trying too hard to act worse than he was. What could he possibly do to her, make her teeth grow bigger? (Hermione hadn't looked impressed when she'd said this), she'd said as much to Ron when he asked her what she had done to Malfoy to make him glare so venomously. Her brother told her to watch her back. Ginny was sure she would survive just fine.

OOO

As it happened, Ginny Weasley survived just fine till the end of the year, and through the next and all the way to sixth year. By that time her crush on Harry had more or less faded, as unrequited crushes often do. He was nice enough, and a good friend, when he wasn't being a typically brooding, sulky teenaged boy. ut he no longer made her blush whenever he asked her to pass the pumpkin juice.

Dean Thomas had taken to smiling winningly at her across the common room, but Ginny chose to act like she didn't notice the extra meaning behind the smile. She wasn't entirely sure why.

Her interactions with Malfoy were more or less limited to a round of insults or hexes in the hallways, courtyards and any other convenient locations on Hogwarts grounds. Sometimes featuring her friends, or his, or both. Their insults were nothing out of the usual, featuring 'blood traitor' and 'ferret' and 'scum'. His friends on the other hand _were_ a strange lot. Or at least some of them were. Crabbe and Goyle weren't all that interesting, but Zabini and Parkinson were another matter entirely. The boy was tall and reserved. He had dark flashing eyes, and spoke little. Though he could put in a biting comment here and there, with the best of them. His mother was some sort of great beauty, and he had all sorts of fabulous rumours going around about him. Hogwarts being Hogwarts she only half-believed what she heard. Although lately she'd been hearing all about how he had been occasionally spotted skulking around with a blonde girl _not of his own house_. Definitely unSlytherin behaviour. All that latent mystery made him interesting, probably more so than his real personality warranted.

Parkinson was also a puzzle. She saved her worst insults and hexes for Harry. Whenever there was a skirmish, or a window in which to say something nasty within his hearing but out of the teacher's, she aimed her barbs straight at him, with a sharp little sneer that made Ginny think of arrow heads. Her dark hair and glittering eyes somehow made the sneers sharper still. She would stare at Harry down her nose, exuding breeding and superiority.

Harry seemed to have noticed too. Or maybe he held some sort of unspoken grudge in return, because these days, his spells were aimed less at Malfoy and his eyes flashed loathing to match the sharp little smiles. He never spoke_ about_ Parkinson, but plenty was said all the same.

Of course, it was no use talking to Ron about this. Especially as he was to busy either making out with Lavender or Hannah or whomever he was currently dating, zooming around the pitch on his broomstick, or eating and/or talking about food. Much too busy to listen to his little sister. This exasperated Ginny as only an older brother ever could. There seemed a momentary lull where Voldemort was concerned, and seeing as he allowed himself a respite to be a teenaged boy, she didn't want to interrupt it for him anyway.

So she turned to the only one of her friends who was really sensible. Hermione had better things to do than sit around looking all moon-struck. Though Ginny suspected that was bound to change sooner than her friend realised. She just needed the right sort of motivation. While everyone had expected her to start dating either of the boys, Ginny knew that simply wouldn't do. Not for Hermione. And while the right sort of motivation took his time getting there, Hermione was content to do her NEWTS preparations.

When she mentioned her observations to Hermione, the girl set down her potions book (so old, that it seemed to be made of vellum) and regarded her with a faintly thoughtful frown. Apparently Hermione _hadn't_ noticed, which showed just how preoccupied she was. Though once Ginny explained, she endeavoured to keep an eye on Harry and Parkinson to see if she could solve the puzzle of their newly-grown antagonism.

OOO

Hogwarts had a piano. Not many people knew that. At least not any of her friends. And she didn't intend to enlighten them. Partly because they wouldn't really care and partly because she liked having a secret. In a family of seven siblings there wasn't much opportunity for secrets. Conversations were overheard, diaries were read. So, even though it was probably silly, and such a little thing, she didn't want to tell anyone. It was a secret, and it was just hers. Ginny wasn't very good at the piano. She'd never had her own, because her parents couldn't afford to get one, but a friend of her mum's once taught her for a bit, when she was little, and she never missed an opportunity to play a bit whenever it presented itself. The instrument was old, but kept in tune, magically, she supposed though generally pianos didn't call for much magic. The room was dusty, with flagstone floors and a few spare desks piled to one side. Used as a store-room, perhaps. She'd stumbled across it by accident once, when she'd been lost on the way to class. It was odd that she'd never seen it before, but then at Hogwarts, you never knew what you could come across. Either way, it made her happy, so she wasn't about to question her luck.

Draco Malfoy hated playing piano. Which was unfortunate, because his technique was rather good, though it lacked in spirit and enthusiasm. But, like any kid whose parents had all sorts of silly, lofty ideas, he'd been sent to music lessons when he'd much rather had taken flying lessons instead. His mother insisted, and Lucius never could deny her anything. Draco had had some of the best teachers money could buy, though he'd complained the whole way. But Narcissa had been happy, and even though he'd quit a while back, she still forced him to play now and then. He knew it made her smile softly to hear the music flow around her. And because Malfoy hated making a fool of himself, so much more than he hated practicing his scales, every now and then he deigned to practice.

The Hogwarts upright was a sad replacement for his instrument at home, but it did the job, so every now and then Malfoy left his friends to their own devices and went down to what passed for a music room (if at a very great stretch). His whereabouts were never really a problem, since, unlike Gryffindors, Slytherins weren't in the habit of asking persistent and annoying questions.

This time, as he made his way down a narrow staircase and along the corridor, he heard someone playing the piano. Badly. Grimacing in annoyance at what had to be the poorest attempt he ever heard, he got closer to the door. Curious despite himself, at exactly who it was that had invaded what he'd come to consider as his room, and of course, who it was that was playing _that _badly. What he saw rather startled him.

"Well, well, Weasley." Unexpectedly, there flashed before him an image of her face as she laughed at him two years ago at the Yule ball. Cold eyes regarded the startled girl.

His voice was cool and crisp. Recognising it immediately, she tried to simultaneously turn to face him and reach for the wand she had put down near the music she hadn't been reading. The first thing anyone learned at Hogwarts was to always take your wand with you everywhere. Unless you _wanted_ to end up sporting boils or bunny ears or a twitchy tail or what have you.

"What do you want, Malferret?" She demanded using one of her brother's favourite names for the Slytherin, more annoyed at having her solitude intruded than anything else.

"Original. Did you only just think of that one?" The blond boy snorted, and Ginny observed how the pale candlelight shadowed his sharp features. "But as it happens I was just passing by when I couldn't help overhearing, and believe me I wish I could, the musical murder you were conducting in here."

Ginny scowled and lifted her wand slightly. Just a warning in case he tried anything. His own wand was nowhere to be seen. She was under no illusion that he was unarmed. Ignoring the warning he approached closer, Ginny's eyes never straying from him. The candlelight from the single candle holder atop the instrument reflected off her bright hair fetchingly.

"And I suppose you could do better." She said dismissively, rolling her eyes and trying not to flush in embarrassment. She had been doing her best considering the lack of formal teaching.

Pale eyes looked over the instrument, "Actually, yes, I could." There was the obligatory tinge of arrogance to his voice and stance.

Before Ginny could reply, trying to decide between a challenge to prove himself and hurling some insult his way, he spoke again. "Shift over, Red."

"Original, Malfoy. Did you only just think of that one?" She drawled mockingly, mimicking his earlier words. Though she did shift up, suddenly uncomfortable at the proximity. Obviously, she told herself it was because one of her biggest adversaries, awful git that he was, was suddenly in her personal space and who knew what he would do next. Obviously.

What he did was rather unexpected. Pale fingers hovered over the ivory keys. Watching his hands glide across the keys, Ginny was impressed. She also observed the way his eyes closed as he swayed with the music. It figured that Malfoy would be good at this too, she thought sourly as she watched him. He didn't play anything too intricate but his level of skill was obvious. It spoke of years of lessons and Ginny was willing to bet expensive ones at that.

Coming to a halt, he glanced down at her smaller hands critically, where they rested on her lap, still holding her wand. Her fingers were too short for virtuoso excellence and reach, but long enough that she could make something of her playing. Certainly something better than what she was doing at the moment. His smile was annoyingly smug.

"Your chords were off." He commented when she didn't say anything, perhaps at a loss for words, "partly because you are placing your hands wrong. And partly because you're trying to reach chords you can't possibly do yet. Who on earth taught you to play?" There was a tinge of disdain in his voice as she was sure he was thinking about who _hadn't._

Ginny puzzled at what appeared to be a sudden and unspoken truce between them. She wondered what Malfoy was about. And she wondered whether she should answer the question or just tell him to sod off. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she figured with what he was already thinking, she might as well answer.

"A friend of my mum's showed me a bit." She considered getting embarrassed, than dismissed the notion. Far be it for her to let Malfoy make her feel bad about yet another thing that came down to wealth in the end.

He didn't say anything spiteful, and nodding thoughtfully proceeded to show her how to correctly place her hands over the ivory keys. Ginny mimicked the placement and Draco figured he might as well explain the basics. So in a low clear voice, strangely devoid of its customary note of petulance he proceeded to explain notes on the keyboard, sharps and flats, tones and semitones. He didn't go in depth knowing that most of it would just fly right out of her head anyway, but it would be good to refer back to when she was ready to put the information to use. That was where memory would come in. Ginny tried to remember what he told her as best she could, still bewildered by this show of good-nature. Or something like it, anyway. Then he showed her a beginner's scale she ought to practise with and watched her do so, correcting her when she went wrong. They stayed in the little room well until supper, their voices soft and surprisingly lacking in any brutality.

Malfoy wasn't entirely sure _why _he was helping her with the piano, and this annoyed him. Malfoy was the sort of person to know exactly what he was doing and why. And he certainly didn't second-guess himself. Still, he wasn't sure why he was helping her. Partly because he wanted to prevent her from destroying the old instrument- it offended him aesthetically. But mostly it had to be because of the old saying about keeping your enemies close, he comforted himself. Yes, that was it! Just a matter of time before he thought of a way to get her for laughing at him that day at the dance, and all the times since. Certainly he didn't care for the way her hair looked in candle light and the warm, faintly mocking sparkle in her dark eyes as she watched him.

OOO

They met, sometimes by accident, sometimes not, and no-one seemed much the wiser for it. The room held an unspoken ceasefire, and though they rarely spoke of anything but music, it was somehow pleasant. Draco's eyes seemed less chilly there somehow. Ginny found herself, quite unconsciously, humming scales to herself and took a music theory book out of some forgotten niche of the library. Her friends eyed the book strangely but she just shrugged at them. Sometimes Luna, whose smile was stranger lately that it had been before, not to mention different, hummed along with her. The Ravenclaw's cheeks flushed for no reason at all these days, Ginny noticed indulgently, though she didn't press her on it.

OOO

Colin Creevey had taken up magical photography. Which is to say he'd commandeered one of the unused rooms in the castle to use as a darkroom. Ginny knew little about photography except the basics, but sometimes she hung out with Colin in the darkroom when he was developing his latest shots so she knew a bit more than most. Colin had been another slightly unusual kid who had joined her mismatched band of friends. He really was lots of fun when he wasn't star-struck, and he had thankfully gotten more or less used to Harry's presence since their first year.

Magical photography required the use of potions in the development of film to make the subjects able to move, hence the remoteness of the room. It was another former classroom, providing enough space for the curtained-off area and a small fireplace just big enough to surreptitiously brew the needed potions without severely affecting the temperature in the room and spoiling the photographs.

This particular night, the day before Hallowe'en, Colin had a stack of homework tall enough to make one queasy just looking at it. He'd had been moaning about it for the past hour. He had so much to do that even the raucous game of exploding snap happening across the room nearer the fire couldn't draw his attention. Ron sat next to him, in pretty much the same boat, while Harry scribbled much less furiously at some parchment for Charms. Hermione, who was sitting next to Ginny in the common room, with her own (voluntary) stack of books shot him a disapproving look and said something about leaving things to the last minute. Unfortunately Colin's homework meant that he could not sneak down to his makeshift darkroom. Staring at Ginny with wide pleading eyes, he begged her to go for him, to check on the latest negatives. She agreed reluctantly, wondering if that had been wise. It was past curfew, but then she reminded herself that Colin had snuck out dozens of times, and nothing had ever happened to _him_. And so with a sigh, having tried to memories his quick instructions, she slipped out the portrait hole, unnoticed, her friends too engrossed in what they were doing to notice.

When she was finished in the darkroom, Ginny slipped back out and just about made it to the staircase that would take her up to Gryffindor Tower when an annoyed voice spoke behind her, making her grimace and turn around, "Miss Weasley! It's well past curfew! What do you think you're doing…" Professor Sinistra stood a few feet away, looking severely irritated. She had had a particularly trying day and had certainly not felt like making the rounds that night. Ginny was let go fifteen minutes later with a sharp talking-to and a detention for the following night after the feast. Sighing to herself, she trudged back to the Tower. Colin hadn't gotten caught _once_, she thought glumly. He definitely owed her. Detention was the last place she wanted to be after the feast and her reason for being sent there was a pretty shoddy one. It wasn't at all the glamorous sort of detention that earned student respect and awe. Like if she were to hex Snape in front of the whole school. Although that would likely end up being a funeral, rather than a detention. At least it would be worth it.

OOO

Draco Malfoy had detention too. His was for having been caught playing a 'prank' on a first year and it made Ginny roll her eyes when she heard an embellished version of the story making rounds across the school. Apparently the first year had gossipy friends. Trust Malfoy to try and poison some poor first year for laughs. Hufflepuff, naturally. That much was obvious, of course, who else would try and actually drink something Malfoy handed them? If Finch-Fletchley was to be believed, the Slytherins had all thought it was pretty funny. McGonagall had not.

Malfoy hadn't been too pleased with his detention, which meant that it would do well for the first year to watch out for any imminent revenge coming is way. This did not stop Malfoy, and some of his more vindictive friends in particular, from smirking insolently and looking amused. Pansy made no secret of the fact that she thought picking on Hufflepuff first years was downright juvenile and certainly was no where near so funny as to provoke smirks for the rest of the day. She thought that being a prefect, Malfoy could at least try and act his age. Rolling her eyes in a condescending way that would have made Hermione proud, she turned to Millicent to discuss hair anti-frizz charms.

Malfoy's mirth faded significantly when he found out what the detention was going to be. It was bad enough that it was to be taken by that great oaf, he told Zabini.

Draco didn't like the thought of going into the Forbidden Forest. He felt entitled not to, given past experience. He liked the thought of going into the Forbidden Forest on Hallowe'en even less. You never knew what could be found in the Forest on Hallowe'en. But knowing he had no other choice, he put on his cloak, scarf, gloves, and his warmest boots and headed down to the grounds. His friends looked amused. He was sure they had a betting pool going on how long he'd last in there. If not on whether he returned at all.

Upon finding out the intended location of her detention, Ginny was rather intrigued. She'd heard Harry, Ron and Hermione talk about the forest a few times, and people told horror stories about exactly _what_ was in there, but she didn't actually know of anyone who'd ever gotten killed in there, no matter what was sometimes whispered around the fire at night. These might have been dangerous times, but they wouldn't be sent out there if it was all that dangerous, and having never been in deeper than the very fringes of the forest, she was curious to take a look. Besides, it was All Hallows, she knew the sort of stuff that sometimes happened on _that_ night. As she was about to leave the common room, Ron told her to cut Malfoy no slack, promising to hex the hell out of him if he tried anything. Harry told her not to forget her wand, inserting a few choice words about Malfoy and Hermione told her to stick by Hagrid. They all looked a bit more worried that the situation warranted. Luna had walked with her from dinner, listing every wonderful creature she should look out for, chattering enthusiastically, and generally treating it as more of an excursion than a punishment.

"Ooh! And the Squoks!" She added, as they loitered on the way from the great hall. She pulled a brightly bound book out of her bag and showed Ginny a page she'd bookmarked, with a picture of a rather odd little creature. Briefly glancing down Ginny found it to be an ugly little thing which looked like it was wearing someone else's skin, an entirely wrong shape for its body. "**Lacrimacorpus dissolvens**_. _They're not from Britain, you know. And they're always crying, and when you try to catch one it dissolves in a puddle of tears, so I don't suppose you'd actually _see_ one but maybe…"

Ginny was the last to arrive, in spite of Draco's attempt to be spitefully late. The blond was eyeing Hagrid disdainfully, eyes only briefly flickering over to Ginny.

"Weasley." His greeting was chilly.

"Malfoy." Hers was wary.

Hagrid, who had been eyeing Malfoy with dislike, motioned them to move on and chatted to Ginny as they trudged over to the dark and silent woods, fondly asking her about her friends. Fang trotted on ahead, and somehow Ginny almost had the impression that he had grown even bigger since she last saw him. Of course, this was impossible, she knew. Malfoy was brooding and when she looked closer she realised that he was looking paler than usual, that his jaw was clenched and his right hand was gripping his wand fervently. His eyes didn't stray from the dark line of trees.

11


	2. II

II

The Forbidden Forest had a sort of savage beauty.

The trees stood tall and worn, bent and twisted with the years, with occasional drooping branches and wide, scraggly roots spaced just right to trip the unwary. The shadows within seemed to absorb any light that filtered in, and the scratchy bark almost glowed and glittered. It held all sorts of promise of adventure, and Ginny loved it. She looked about her excitedly.

"Right," Hagrid was saying, holding a torch that was half as tall as Ginny, "Malfoy's gonna be helping me gather bracken. 'tis for the winter fires to keep the animals warm." He didn't expand on what sort of animals he meant to bring in for his winter classes, and Malfoy resented being treated like a common house elf. "an' Ginny, you are gonna be on the look out for rowan trees. I need young wild-rowan berries fer Professor Snape, they won't be ripe yet 'course." Rowan berries didn't become ripe until hit with the first frost. He produced what looked like two long levitating baskets for the bracken, one much longer than the other, from where he had apparently left them near the trees, then turned back to Ginny.

He handed her a smaller, roughly woven basket and carried on with his instructions. "Pick only the bracken as has already _fallen_ from the trees. An' we won't be goin' far in. There are rowans and bracken aplenty on the fringes. Don't go straying by yerselves. Right. Got it? Lets go."

Malfoy waited for Hagrid to add a reminder of what happened the last time he'd been in the forest, and was annoyed when he didn't, having no idea why Hagrid didn't mention it. He couldn't help the shiver that went down his spine at the memory as they entered the forest. Watching his step, he lit his wand and tried to look around while at the same time carefully watching the tree roots.

Ginny thought the detention didn't sound very bad at all. And for what it was worth, Hagrid didn't look particularly worried. Of course, she reminded herself, Hagrid didn't look worried around dragons either. With a soft '_Lumos' _her wand was a bright beacon and they were well on their way. About five minutes later she was disappointed. There was little to be heard or seen apart from their footsteps and the occasional crunch of what had to be small animals moving through the undergrowth. A few times she thought she heard Malfoy jump. Hagrid walked in front, then Ginny and the unhappy Malfoy after and Fang brought up the rear. Every now and then, the gamekeeper stooped to pick up a branch and drop it in his basket, which was levitating ahead of him. She imagined Malfoy did the same behind her, though his attempts were in actuality half-hearted.

His thin mouth was set into a grim line, and his eyes darted around the silent woods, wary, angry and nervous. He really hated the damn forest. Weasley, in front of him, didn't seem afflicted by any such thing, as she merrily barrelled after that oaf through the trees. His mouth thinned even more.

Five more minutes and Ginny's disappointment in the forest increased. Luna would be, too. Unlike her Ravenclaw friend, Ginny had no idea what she expected to see. But it _was_ the Forbidden Forest. And it _was_ Samhain and she had definitely expected _something._

Suddenly a rustle broke the stillness, and Ginny glanced over to the right, as did Hagrid and Malfoy. A rabbit, surprisingly large and prematurely white before the snow of winter had fallen, was frozen near some spiky-looking bushes. It watched them carefully and Fang gave a happy little bark before taking off after it, as the little animal turned tail and fled.

"Fang!" Hagrid shouted. The dog knew better, after all the years in the forest, yet if his eyes hadn't fooled him, the rabbit had had a strange glow about it. He glanced over at Ginny Weasley, who had just been thinking the same thing, and then at Malfoy, who was staring into the trees, wide eyed. Hagrid didn't like the boy, and he couldn't bring himself to leave little Ginny with him in the middle of the forest. But they were on the path, where no harm could come to them, and he couldn't let Fang run off after whatever that rabbit thing was. Decision made, he ordered the two students to wait where they were, to keep their wands lit and not to stray off the path. If he called they were to send sparks. He would do the same.

Malfoy thought it was all a little too familiar. With a final "Stay on the path!" and an apologetic look at Ginny, the half-giant left his basket levitating and dashed off after his dog, calling for him. Draco thought darkly that it was too much to hope Hagrid would've learned from past mistakes.

They stood that way in silence for a full minute, squinting into the trees, until Ginny broke the silence. "The rabbit was glowing." She observed. Draco wished she hadn't, though she still didn't sound too put out. In fact Ginny was remembering defence class, "It was a Pooka!" she announced, "It had to be!" Malfoy was about to say something scathing when another bout of rustling made him jerk and anxiously scan the tree line. Ginny had never met anyone that highly strung. And that was including Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. She toyed with the idea of telling him as much.

"Don't be so jovial about it, Weasley." He ground out, glaring at her harshly, "You've no idea of what is out there in these bloody woods."

She shot him a look, "Don't be silly, Malfoy. If it was _that_ dangerous they wouldn't have sent us here." He snorted at that. That was when Ginny's eyes alighted on the rowan tree. It was further down and off the path, to the right, lit faintly by some moonlight that seemed to filter from behind the thin cloud cover. Grinning triumphantly, she started over to it.

"Weasel! What do you think you're doing!" Malfoy demanded in his best prefect voice.

"I'm going to pick some rowan." She answered simply.

"It's off the path." He couldn't believe he was starting to sound like Granger. He grabbed her elbow, and she yanked it back out of his grip.

"Honestly, Malfoy don't be such a git, it's right there. Hardly off the path. It's not like you can get lost when you can actually _see _the path." Now she sounded exasperated as she made her way over. With a hiss, knowing that he couldn't just let the stupid girl wander off on her own, Draco flicked his wand, lowering his basket to the cold ground and hurried after Ginny. Merlin knew, he wanted nothing more than to stay on the path.

Using her wand, Ginny proceeded to snap off droves of the tiny red berries, while Malfoy watched in chilly silence, darting sporadic glances at the stark silence around them. Ginny ignored him until the basket was full. With a final glance at the slight tree, which she thought rather pretty, she turned to her moody companion.

"Okay, it's full. Let's go back."

Wordlessly gritting his teeth the Slytherin turned back to the path. The girl really was _incredibly_ annoying.

He froze momentarily, as did Ginny half a second later.

They stared. The forest was dark, the trees were twisted, and the path was gone. Nowhere to be seen. Which was impossible. Ginny said as much in a strangled voice.

"Oh really?" came the insolent reply. They walked in the direction they knew they'd come, but the path was still gone. They peered around them. Malfoy felt his skin crawl. Ginny was starting to get a little worried.

"I hope you're happy, Weasel! Now we're lost." He sounded angry, and his face, what she could make out of it in the gloom before she turned away, was edgy.

"Oh, so now it's my fault?"

"Well, it certainly isn't mine." Ginny itched to hex him. Malfoy was thinking the same thing, though perhaps not as politely.

"Oh, so we just got translocated off the path by sheer chance?"

"That's not the point! I didn't make the path disappear! They don't usually do that."

He chose to ignore her.

"Well, since we know we came this way, we could try and go back."

"I think we should try and signal Hagrid."

He snorted derisively, "Use your head, Weasley. You don't even know where that big oaf, is. What's to say he'll see you?" The unspoken thought which hung in the air between them was _"what's to say something else might not."_

"Why do you have to be so condescending about everyone, Malfoy? Does it give you some sort of pleasure to be such a sodding git?" Ginny half-jogged after him, which rather ruined the sharp effect of her voice. There was no way she was going to let him pin this on her. Her spine straightened in her ire. Her eyes blazed and her face was flushed. It was too bad most of this was lost in the dark. Before Malfoy could throw back his own retort, Ginny went on, accidentally revealing a thought she'd had for quite some time, "It's like you're trying too hard to be nastier than you actually are. Oh! Have no doubt, I'm sure you _are_ vile, or can be. But I don't, for a moment think, you're as bad as you seem to believe. What is it, Malfoy, some sort of, 'might as well since everyone expects it'?"

Malfoy's reply was curt and startlingly calm. "Say anything like that again, Weasley, and I'll hex you." Deadly stillness reigned.

A sob cut through the tension. It was deep and heart wrenching. Malfoy's eyes flew to Ginny's face, startled. In the faint light of their wands, her face reflected his surprise.

"Someone's hurt!" The girl exclaimed, their fight forgotten. They looked in the direction of the sound, through the trees a little back the way they'd just come. A faint globe of light appeared there, growing stronger.

"It must be a student! Come on!" he didn't have a chance to stop her before she was moving.

Malfoy swore, starting after her again, saying something even worse as one of his hand-crafted boots caught a protruding root. Branches caught at his robes and he could've sworn the trees were closing in on them. When Ginny reached the spot where she was sure she heard the sobbing coming from, there was nothing but empty darkness. The light reappeared a little way away.

"They're on the move!" She looked at Draco urgently, whose eyes were scanning their surroundings for what had to be the thousandth time that night.

He sighed, exasperated, "Think about it, Weasley. This deep in the forest?"

She considered it, then shook her head, her face set stubbornly, "I have to check. I can't just- " she broke off, shrugging and moving again.

She was just about to reach the light when an arm shot out and caught her round the middle, before yanking her back. Malfoy had been paying attention to the ground. Ginny found herself against his chest.

"Malf-" she was about to give him a piece of her mind about trying to feel her up, when he waved his other hand, the one holding his wand.

"Bog," was all he said. This close she could feel how tense he was, she was aware of his rapid hear beat.

She nodded, "Thanks", she daid, somewhat surprised that he'd saved her, when he obviously considered Hufflepuff-poisoning a sport. They stared at each other, before Malfoy cleared his throat and Ginny stepped back carefully. Another sob almost echoed around them, mixed with a softer undertone of laughter and another light. A light glowed faintly, seemingly from the same place as the source of the sound.

"That's not a lantern." The boy said, quietly, feeling his hair stand on end, "_That'_s a will o' the wisp." At his words Ginny looked closer and realised that the light _was_ a bit greenish. Will o' the wisps were pretty faerie lights. But, bordering strongly on unseelie, they had a way of luring people into danger. Then she remembered something her Ravenclaw friend once told her,

"They're supposed to hide treasure." She spoke without thinking and regretted it instantly. Malfoy levelled an almost contemptuous glare at her. The laughter chose that moment to become a song. Or a low, hauntingly beautiful humming sound, at any rate. And the vague outline of a slender greenish shape rose out of what had to be freezing water. It's skin reflected the pale moonlight. The clouds were dissipating. Ginny was certain it was a female shape and Malfoy tensed next to her, obviously recognising the nix for what it was. It extended a beckoning hand. The nails were long, dark and sharp. Its eyes glowed yellow. Ginny and Malfoy raised their wands and moved unconsciously closer together.

"Afraid, are you, mortal kith?" a scratchy, whispery voice twined around them. Their hair moved as if on a breeze. "Yes, afraid, but we mean merely to dance. It is our night to dance, and this our dancing glade. Why do you stumble upon us? Do you mean to dance with us, perhaps?" More shapes glided out of the shadows. They were beautiful, ensnaring, yet, afterwards neither Ginny nor Malfoy could quite describe them. They wore leaves, fine twigs and cobwebs in their hair and moved as though air bent around them. A strange tune arose as though from the frozen ground beneath their feet. Some of the creatures, short and tall, thickset and slender began to move. The nix remained still.

"We wish," Ginny began politely, though suddenly she really wanted to dance, and she remembered how in exchange for a little blood the nix could make one a great musician. Malfoy caught the strange note in her voice, thinking along the same lines, calculating. He was much less inclined to trust and negotiate then the Weasley girl, "Are you mad?" He hissed at her.

Ginny was surprised, then changed tack. "We wish only to return." Her voice was still soft and polite. The creature seemed to consider this, cocking its head to the side, while the others completely ignored them.

"But returning…would be a boon, and such are never without a price." Malfoy wondered if it was possible to feel a _voice_ on his _skin_.

Ginny thought hard, knowing the price was never obvious, then inspiration struck,

"I have some rowan berries." She stuck out the arm with the basket as evidence.

"So you do. Moon touched rowan, I see." The female grinned, showing sharp pointy little teeth. "_Rowan is a tree of power causing life and magic to flower…_"the water sprite seemed to be quoting, though neither Ginny nor Draco knew where from. "And do you know the _value_ of life, little mortals? And magic? You are of it, but do you understand it?" Yellow eyes flashed at them, as though trying to read their faces, "But I tire of this. Very well, then, I will take the gift you offer. Half that little basket. Throw it to the water." Draco did just that, pale hand extending and the water almost seemed to reach for the offering. When the 'gift' was paid, the water-thing spoke again, sounding whimsical, "I'd offer you some words of wisdom, which your kind never heed, but you seem to know all you need, though perhaps you do not recognise it yet. Go back whence you came. And now we part. Fare well." With a sharp jerk of a spindly green arm a mist descended like a veil between them, and Ginny and Malfoy stood without speaking in the cold forest once more. As one, they turned around, and found themselves right back by the bracken baskets.

This seemed so far out of the realm of the everyday that neither knew quite _what_ to say. And so they stood in silence on the path that wasn't there, until Malfoy noticed Ginny was shivering with the cold.

Remembering her threadbare robes he unwound his scarf, green in honour of his house, and handed it to her, wondering what the hell had come over him. "Here."

Ginny looked up as his voice shattered the silence. Her eyes widened, but she accepted the garment without comment, nodding her thanks. It was warm and it spelled like him. It wasn't unpleasant. She wound it around her neck.

"Well, I'll be damned." Malfoy said softy, watching her. His fear seemed forgotten and a whole new kind of truce was between them. That was when they saw the red and yellow sparks Hagrid was shooting. Upon finding them the half-giant scanned the two faces. They looked pale, from the cold no doubt, and there was a strange mistiness to their eyes, but nothing seemed out of place. They didn't look as if they had tried to kill each other in his absence. Fang trotted next to him, and Hagrid again expounded on his disbelief that the dog had run off. They started back towards the castle, and it was not till they were clear of the trees that Ginny heard Malfoy mutter "I _hate_ that bloody forest."

OOO

By unspoken agreement, they did not discuss what they'd seen in the forest. When asked, Ginny told Luna that she thought she hear a squonk. Luna seemed impressed, though Ginny told her nothing else. It was just too odd to talk about. At the same time it was somehow special, so that she didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else. When she'd gotten back to her dormitory after the detention, her roommates were asleep. She was surprised to find the green and silver scarf still around her neck. For no reason Ginny could name, she tucked it under her pillow before falling asleep.

7


	3. III

A/N: Just a reminder of the suggested "Faces like mine" for the coffee scene. 

III

Her timing was completely off. Again. Malfoy winced, watching Ginny murder the piece.

"Stop! Stop!" he interrupted. Ginny froze, eyes wide, hands poised over the keys.

"You're completely out of time." Whenever she got into the piece, Ginny flat-out ignored the metronome.

He sat next to her, thinking on how to correct the problem. Then it came to him.

"Do you know how they measured timing before the metronome?" he asked the redhead.

"How?" Her voice was guarded. Was he trying to patronise her?

"The heartbeat." Her eyes met his silver ones, unsure, "Not very exact, perhaps, but generally speaking the human heartbeat is more or less the same for everyone. And so it was used to keep time." Gently he took her small hand and put it over his heart, still holding her gaze.

Something new and strange and altogether unsettling was in the air. Ginny swallowed hard, feeling his warm skin through his robes, trying to concentrate on his heartbeat. Draco noticed that she smelled of cinnamon. Or nutmeg. Or something spicy that permeated his nostrils. There was something odd in the air, and afterwards when she tried to give him back his scarf, pulling it out of her bag, where she had neatly folded it, his lips twisted into a not-quite-his-usual-smirk, and he told her to keep it. Then, as an afterthought he added that he thought the colours suited her, though she didn't take the bait.

OOO

A few weeks after the metronome incident, Ginny Weasley went on a pre-dinner stroll. Most of her friends, those from the year above, weren't in the best of moods, so she went by herself and found that Draco Malfoy was standing by the lake near an overhanging copse of willows. He was glaring out at the water and clutching a sheaf of parchment in one pale hand. He was, uncharacteristically, alone. Not sure why she did so, she strolled unhurriedly over to where he was standing. A gust of wind whipped her hair across her face. She wished she'd thought to tie it up.

"You too, huh?" she observed, when she was near enough not to have to shout.

Malfoy's head whipped around. "Excuse me?" He snapped, finding Ginny Weasley, all dark eyes and red hair peering up at him. The annoyance did not vanish from his face and his hand clutched the parchment tighter yet.

She glanced pointedly at the parchment before shifting her gaze back to his face. Another gust of wind got hold of her hair and rippled the water a few feet away from them. "Potions, right? I heard Harry and Ron complaining about it earlier. Apparently Snape was absolutely brutal. Even to the Slytherins, I can see." Draco's lips thinned. Potions was his best subject and he absolutely refused to allow his marks to drop just because Snape was feeling peaky. He'd worked his arse off on this essay, and the bloody thing counted a quarter of his year mark.

The Weasley girl just rolled her eyes, remembering her own private conclusion about his uptightness. Their interactions had been odd lately, all sorts of boundaries unclear. "Lighten up, Malfoy. It's just one essay. Anyway, I know what would make you feel better. You can't just stand there brooding, you know."

She wondered why she was bothering at all, then shrugged it off. Hermione, she knew, would never approve of such disrespectful treatment of homework.

"Wha-" Draco wondered where she got off but before he could voice the sentiment, she had yanked the parchment out of his hand, pulling her wand out and setting it alight. Malfoy watched, stunned, as the ashes were carried to the dark water, before disappearing in the depths of the lake.

"There," she said, looking satisfied. He was staring at her, disbelief painted across his sharp features.

"Like I said, lighten up."

OOO

It was cold in the forgotten room. No-one had bothered to light a fire, and Malfoy sashayed in to the now familiar sound of warm-up scales. A shivery looking Weasley sat at the old instrument. Draco rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand

She turned around just as he approached. Instead of looking wary, she eyed him curiously.

"Honestly, Weasley, it's freezing in here. You have your wand, so use it." While he spoke, he ignited the logs and waited for them to start crackling cheerily. He sat next to her and she felt suddenly warm. All of a sudden she couldn't play at all, so focused was she on the feeling of his arm and thigh against hers.

They had a little argument, a continuation of a long-running one, where Ginny 'improvised' and Malfoy was in the horrors at the very thought. After she mistook yet another chord, Malfoy interrupted.

"Stop!"

She looked up, surprised.

"I don't know what you think you're doing. Maybe the cold's got to that brain of yours, but this is definitely no good." Not letting her respond, Draco jumped to his feet and grabbed her elbow, dragging her after him. "Clearly you've done just about all you can today. So let's get out of here!"

His last words surprised them both, implying that he wished to spend any sort of time with her outside of the forgotten music room.

"Out?" Ginny repeated, sure that he had misspoken and wanting to give him an out.

"Yes, out." He was putting out the fire and the room became cold again, not having had time to warm up properly.

"You mean, in public? But someone might see us."

Malfoy stopped to consider this, then shrugged elegantly. True, being seen with the Weaslette might cause a few problems, but nothing that would not be overshadowed by some other gossip by the next morning.

"Oh, really." He rolled his eyes, "It's not like I'm proposing we elope." He was surprised to see her blush at this, nervously tucking a fly-away strand of hair behind an ear.

The expression on her face made him look at her thoughtfully and somewhat suspiciously. Ginny felt more than a little suspicious herself, wondering why it was that he was suddenly proposing they go somewhere together. It was bound to feel weird and awkward and all sorts of strained, so she really didn't know why she nodded, and gave him a small smile.

"Fine." Then, because that didn't seem enough she added, "Let's go." So they did, separating to fetch their winter cloaks. They met again in one of the less frequented corridors coming out of the entrance hall. Not that they'd needed to bother – the castle was mostly deserted. Ginny wore the green scarf, though she didn't want to think about why. Draco noticed this, an unreadable expression fleeting across his face.

Only then did Ginny think to ask where there were going.

"Hogsmeade, of course. It _is _Hogsmeade weekend, you know," Draco replied with absent-minded sarcasm while buttoning his cloak. It was a rich black and looked very warm. Brushing against him accidentally as they walked, Ginny felt a tingle of what were surely warming charms woven into the heavy fabric.

"Yes, I know," she replied, all the while wondering what to say next. Suddenly, now that they were out of their customary surroundings she felt at a loss for words. She wondered what this little trip of theirs could mean.

In Hogsmeade, no one paid them much attention, groups and couples scuttling through the snow that had begun to fall softly, eager to get out of the cold, or standing in clumps, laughing softly at private jokes. Still, by unspoken accord they made for one of the less-frequented little cafes in the village. And so Draco found himself seated across a narrow little table from a girl in the shabbiest robes he'd ever seen, and he didn't mind in the least.

Still eyeing each other warily, they waited for their orders to be set before them. Ginny had ordered hazelnut coffee, still shivering from the cold. It was a bit pricey, but what good was an allowance if you didn't enjoy it? Malfoy ordered his coffee black.

"Anything to eat, Red?" the boy asked unconcernedly, his face unreadable. Ginny was startled by the nickname. It had more or less died out in the family as she grew older. Not that Malfoy would know anything about that.

She glanced down at the pricey menu, absently. She really was running low on allowance, and supper would be in a few hours.

"No, I'm fine." He peered at her,

"You look all pale and chittery, Weasley," he remarked conversationally in a voice that brooked no argument, "Stop being ridiculous and order something."

Ginny was about to answer back, but decided she couldn't be bothered.

"So why were you cooped up by yourself with all the cobwebs instead if being out here with your little friends?" Malfoy drawled, sounding rather unkind. It was no secret how he felt about her friends, and he saw no reason to put on airs. For one thing, he thought they were remarkably insipid. Ginny shot him a look but his silver eyes were unreadable, and she glanced back down at her hands for a moment, frowning.

"I could ask the same of you, Malfoy." She wondered when 'ferret' had gone out of use.

"You couldn't," he informed her, simply, slowly taking off his gloves (black, of course). "I'm not known for being attached at the hip to the point of ridicule to any of _my_ friends."

"Oh, really?" The redhead snapped, glaring at his aristocratic face. "Then how do you explain your permanent entourage? Not to mention those bodyguards of yours."

"Just because we choose to move around together, Weasley, doesn't make it a necessity." Not bothering to take the bait or argue further, Ginny shifted the conversation slightly. She wondered if she should tell the truth then figured she might as well.

"I was going to, actually, but when I got down to the common room they'd all vanished." Their drinks arrived, and having added just the right amount of sugar so as not to ruin her drink, Ginny lifted the steaming mug gratefully to her lips. Malfoy stared as she drank what had to be near-boiling liquid. It was a habit Ginny got from her grandmother, and one most other people seemed to find odd, her tolerance for scalding beverages. She closed her eyes momentarily, enjoying the hazelnut taste on her tongue and the warmth spreading through her. Draco studied what he considered her somewhat-pretty features, with her hair half-out of her blue hair band, and the obvious enjoyment written clearly across her face and something in him tightened. Then she opened her eyes and sparkled at him. Draco clutched his own cup of too-hot coffee.

He tried to think back to what they had been discussing…friends. Grasping upon the idea, Malfoy carried on the conversation, looking unperturbed.

"Your friends vanished, you said?" He looked suddenly contemplative, lifting a teaspoon to stir his drink absently, though he didn't take sugar.

She nodded. "'Mione would probably have set out early. She was saying something about a new robe and the bookshop. Couldn't find Luna or Harry. Ron had a date." She didn't remark on how strange that was. They usually always went to Hogsmeade all together.

Actually Draco's friends had vanished too. Zabini had been a bit shifty, not his usual self at all. Parkinson had looked pretty determined too, and when he asked her where she was going she snippily told him in was none of his sodding business. Then she slammed the door behind her. He told Ginny as much, and she burst out giggling, nearly snorting the hot chocolate she'd been drinking at the time.

"What?" Draco demanded a bit testily just in case she was laughing at him.

"Oh! It's nothing, its just a weird co-incidence, and I'm sure lots of people's friends act weird from time to time, its just, were they anyone but my friends and yours, I'd say they were in on something together." Draco had to laugh at the idea. It was a very different laugh from the snide one Ginny had heard him use whenever he'd got one over someone. It made her pause and look at him, the lighting making his hair look slightly darker, grey eyes glittering and pale cheeks flushed faintly with mirth. Apparently he found the idea more ridiculous than she did. Ginny decided she rather liked it when he laughed like that. It made her want to laugh with him, and suddenly there were butterflies in her stomach. Or perhaps moths were more fitting, she decided When he'd recovered from his uncharacteristic mirth, Draco shook his head.

"Un-bloody-likely. Who do you picture Pansy with? That git brother of yours? Or sterling Potty?"

"I don't see why you have to pick on them every time," she said a bit sharply, putting her mug down. In London the drink came in tall, fragile-looking glasses, enchanted not to burn you. Ginny liked the mug better. Their food arrived. Malfoy lifted a forkful of chicken and mushroom pie gracefully, not dropping any of it. Ginny, who sat near Ron, Harry, Seamus and Dean most mealtimes, was suitably impressed.

She tasted a forkful of the Cornish pie she'd ordered, and when she looked up, Malfoy looked amused, "And I'm sure they are very gracious when they speak of me." She didn't reply.

"Double standards, Red. But go on, then. Potter or the Weasel? Or does the thought of Potty with anyone else put you off?" He added the last bit slightly maliciously.

It was Ginny's turn to look amused. "You're a bit behind on the gossip, Malfoy."

"Oh? So your love for the boy wonder's dead, is it? Sure didn't look that way when you defended him on that Quidditch pitch last week."

There was something strange in his eyes. Or perhaps it was just the candlelight. A bell jingled, followed by a gust of wind as someone came into the little bistro, making Ginny shiver as she had discarded her cloak.

"It's called friendship. Perhaps the concept is foreign to you. But since you seem _so _interested, yes I did have a crush on Harry once, but it's disappeared now. Hard to keep after someone who doesn't notice you. Not to mention someone who thinks watching your brother squirt milk out of his nose is amusing." Fred and George had thought it was pretty funny too, but then the whole thing had been their fault in the first place.

Malfoy looked smug again, because he certainly wasn't about to look pleased. He examined his pale, elegant fingers. "Yes, I can see how that's a dampener. I imagine it was the holier-than-thou goldenness that was so attractive. Regular knight in shining armour. Muggle made armour, of course."

"What's it to you?" she carefully lifted another forkful of her own Cornish pie.

"To me?" he snorted. "Nothing."

His face was unreadable, so Ginny just shrugged, "Maybe it was, once. And now that it's over with we can be friends. The hero thing…it's overrated." She thought about the constant worry, and emotional strain he was always under, "But there's more to him than that, and what I did like…well, it seems overrated now. I liked him from before I knew him, which kept me from knowing him." She didn't elaborate and Malfoy was careful not to ask her to.

He thought that it was odd and somewhat unsettling, the direction the conversation was heading in. Not that it wasn't odd to be sitting at Hogsmeade talking to the Weaslette anyway.

Sensing the mood grow heavy, Ginny felt the need to break it, "And to answer your earlier question, I'm thinking Harry. Ron and Pansy…would kill each other."

He looked surprised by that reasoning, and was glad for the topic change "And Pansy and Potty wouldn't? The insulting nature of this conversation, where Pansy's concerned, aside."

Ginny wondered if she was the only one who paid attention. It came with growing up with six brothers, she supposed. Like Moody was fond of saying, constant vigilance. She laughed again, at Malfoy this time, "Not in any way either of them would mind, I don't think." Her smile was faintly suggestive, making Draco shift slightly, his breath catching for a moment. Candlelight did wonders. Her smile was… adjectives floated around his head and none quite seemed to fit.

He almost didn't mind what he knew to be laughter at his expense. Almost. It was amazing how long two pies and two mugs of coffee could be made to last. Their conversation continued, mostly on lighter topics, with a few strained moments when one or both (Malfoy couldn't reign in the sarcasm for very long) said something the other found disagreeable, and Malfoy ordered them more coffee. Ginny found herself telling him things she'd never said out loud before, and things she hadn't even known herself. Neither seemed to notice the ease with which the conversation flowed, especially given the limited sphere of their previous interactions.

OOO

When at last their meal was finished, and they had a suitable squabble over the bill (Ginny wasn't about to let Malfoy pay for it, and he wouldn't hear of it any other way), they were wrapped warmly in their cloaks and out in the cold. It was almost time to go back to Hogwarts; darkness had fallen and the snowflakes had taken exception to swirling prettily, coming down instead in a way that made you want to squint and keep your head down. Ginny grinned as she watched them swirl around a lamp lighting the road. Malfoy didn't grin as he watched Ginny. He thought of her at the ball again, happy in her ancient dress robes. Her face had been alight just the same way.

As they trudged through the village, surrounded by other stragglers making their way back to the school, a gust of wind picked up, and Draco surprised her by asking if she didn't want to cast a warming charm on her cloak. She shook her head,

"Look, I'm not cold anymore." She said, and took his gloveless hand to show him. He looked startled by the sudden contact but didn't let it go. If Ginny noticed she didn't show it, and Malfoy wondered what on earth he was doing. But then, the whole day had been surreal and he might as well go with the flow. Tomorrow, he decided he would come to his senses.

A dark-haired couple walked a little in front and to the left. They didn't hold hands. They weren't touching at all, but something in the way they carried themselves next to each other, or perhaps their mussed hair and swollen lips implied that not touching was a recent thing. The girl's face was a mixture of haughtiness and smugness. The boy's bright eyes glittered. Before the Hogwarts doors she yanked him, none too gently, into a shadowy alcove to the side, for another snog. Neither seemed to mind the cold.

Ginny and Draco didn't speak much as they walked into the entrance hall together. Unlike the pair in the shadows, they did not kiss. Ginny resolutely told herself that that would have been neither here nor there. Their hands slid apart, and she scanned his impassive face. This was the awkwardness she'd been dreading. Being pleasant was all well and good with no-one to see, but they had no idea where they stood now that they were back at Hogwarts.

Saying stunted, and somewhat aloof goodbyes, they went their separate ways to stash their cloaks before dinner, which was in an hour. Predictably, neither was very hungry, and they studiously didn't look at each other. Pansy looked almost…cheerful, severely weirding out Draco.

Ginny caught Luna during dinner, and asked her where she'd been, explaining that she'd been unable to find her. Luna smiled serenely and explained that she had gone to the village to get ice-cream, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Malfoy noticed that Blaise had a bit of a cough, wondering how he'd managed it, given his enchanted cloak.

OOO

Two days later, Harry had detention. He admitted as much when he showed up in the common room just past midnight, to find his friends still lounging around. His hair looked messier than usual. When his friends asked him what he was in for, he coloured and muttered something about the astronomy tower while they watched him curiously. It more or less clicked into place. "Ooh! Who were you with, mate?" Ron demanded, looking, of all things, proud.

"Astronomy tower…" Hermione sighed in a long-suffering manner. "Why is everyone always meeting on top of the astronomy tower? You'd think it'd be more crowded by now." Ginny nodded agreement, rolling her eyes. She often wondered, from all the stories one heard, whether one had to book the place two months in advance. By morning everyone in the school knew that Pansy Parkinson had detention for the same reason. It didn't take long to put two and two together, which caused quite a stir.

Potter simply shrugged when any of his fellow Gryffindors asked him about it, looking uncertain, their eyes flitting this way and that. Pansy handled it with her disdainful sneer firmly in place, so very few were brave enough to ask _her_ about it. And some students really didn't care.

"Pans and Potter," Blaise muttered with a shake of his head. "The mind boggles."

Draco nodded. Crabbe looked startled, as did Goyle. Theodore Nott tried not to look disappointed. It did not escape Draco that Blaise carefully kept the identity of his mysterious little friend under wraps.

Harry Potter's mind wasn't boggled. At least not by his…thing with Parkinson. She was a Slytherin and they were all about shadows and cloak-and-dagger. Was is really so difficult to imagine that the spotlight got old very quickly and shadows could be a comfort? Besides he knew for sure she didn't like him for the fame. She'd made quite a point of how much she didn't like him at all.

OOO

When Ginny and Malfoy met again in the music room something had changed resolutely and irreparably. Malfoy still loathed her friends, and acted like a complete prat when the urge struck. Ginny still considered him to be a right bastard at times and fully participated in the hexes thrown across courtyards. But something was undoubtedly _different_. If Ginny had to give the effect of the past few months a musical term, she'd call it a deceptive cadence. Simplified, that would mean that when you expect a moment of tension to resolve to certain chord, an expected one, that it feels right should follow, it doesn't, resolving to an entirely different one instead.

Malfoy stared at her with an intensity she found astounding, especially in someone so reserved.

They sat side by side, warmth tingling where limbs touched, and silence reigned, though it would not reign for long. Draco began first, pianissimo, and Ginny joined him, their duet growing louder, then softer again, entwining itself around them, almost ruffling their hair and stroking across their faces. Ginny wasn't so sure about lack of magic involved in piano playing. Draco was no longer so very much against improvisation. Not that he agreed with it.

They had taken to speaking during their strange meetings. Speaking of things other than music.

He came to know several things about Ginny Weasley,

Ginny liked opals and moonstones, and she hated gold because it clashed with her hair. She wrote poetry on her hand when she didn't have any paper, and he mocked her for it mercilessly, because he thought it was a Lovegood thing to do. Her poetry only came together when just the right mood struck and when it did it was often cheery and fanciful, like multicoloured silk scarves on the wind. Not to his taste in the least.

She had kept his scarf, though she didn't wear it around her fellow Gryffindors, and when he had asked her about that, she'd smirked in a way that unsettled him before charming a red and gold series of stripes to intertwine with the green. He'd raised a cool eyebrow and was secretly glad the charm wasn't a lasting one. Green and Red! Just the thought made him queasy.

He hated her perfume. The one she wore with the little blue forget-me-not earrings. It was loud, bordering on brash, it was strong, and it followed him around the rest of the day. When he told her how much he hated it, she waited patiently for the next Hogsmeade weekend and bought another bottle. She'd been running low anyway.

She laughed at him often and endlessly told him that he took himself too seriously. She never backed away from what promised to be a spectacular fight. She had a terrible taste in friends, and often said the same about him. She thought Parkinson and Potter were a good idea if only they'd calm down a bit.

Her friends were suddenly catching on and his seemed to care far less than he expected. None of them refrained from throwing around a few barbs of course. It took a while for Ron to stop glowering, but Hermione was surprisingly reasonable. Harry didn't seem very interested.

For Christmas, Malfoy sent her a gift, a single stand of genuine, freshwater pearls. He knew that she was a little embarrassed in owning nothing but paste jewellery in a world that valued gold and silver, and that she would never admit to it. When Ron implied a boyfriend in a letter to their mother, Ginny had been bombarded with a letter full of all sorts of questions she didn't know how to answer. She made sure Ron regretted blabbing.

When they kissed it came as suddenly and unexpectedly as their whole situation. Which is to say it crept up on them until suddenly there was no way around it. It happened when they were standing by some trees near the lake again and she was humming a tune. It had still been winter then, just before the Christmas holidays, which had then dragged on at a glacial pace. Their eyes caught, and something passed between them. There wasn't anyone around, but it wouldn't have mattered either way, because suddenly his hands were in her hair and her hands were clutching his arms through his cloak and their lips met. And danced, almost twining. It was tempered and fierce a bit like the green fire and the eldritch humming and the beautiful compulsion of music in the mind. It was right, and it had been a long time coming. Ginny leaned against his stronger frame and his arms tightened around her and all the unspoken things passed between them. When at last they broke apart their breaths were ragged, and their eyes were dazed and enigmatic smiles curled both sets of lips.

One day, as they sat in the stands after their respective Quidditch practice, wrapped against the now-diminished rain and the chill that still lingered with the coming spring, Draco wondered when she had managed to become beautiful. Her hair was a mess and her robes were stained with mud and rainwater, not that Draco looked much better. Ginny, whose practice had finished last, was still trying to catch her breath. His mind drifted back to a conversation they'd had about what their relationship actually _was_. Ginny had looked at him contemplatively, bright eyes wide. He'd asked her to trust him.

"You'll do something inconsiderate." She'd spoken carefully, the levity in her voice belying all sorts of things. "Like break my heart."

"Or perhaps you'll break mine." She didn't make any cracks about his not having a heart for the breaking. It wasn't the time for cheap jibes. Instead she'd nodded slowly.

"Perhaps." It was a risk worth taking. Her brother was going to be out for his blood.

The rain had become a light drizzle and something resembling the sun was beginning to appear. Everyone else had already left their changing rooms and gone up to the castle. The Slytherin and Gryffindor remained on their bench, stubbornly ignoring their muddy state and talking in soft voices.

It was a most singular situation Draco Malfoy found himself in. He wasn't the agonising sort. He didn't hover angstily in his dorms like some Ravenclaw, writing 'dark poetry' to express his inner turmoil. He didn't spend sleepless nights staring at his ceiling or sport dark circles under his eyes in the morning. He didn't go around with wide tortured eyes or sigh dramatically to emphasise any despair. As it were, Draco didn't have much in the way of inner turmoil at all. Which meant that once he had come to his conclusion (be it after ranting or contemplating in a moment of brooding, thoughtful silence) he was as decided as he was going to be. It saved him loads of time sitting around by the lake or by the window lost, in deliberation.

It didn't happen overnight, of course, and it might have gone on for a very long time without his realising, though, naturally, Draco didn't like to think _that_. All the same, it happened somehow, and one day it just _was_.

So when Draco Malfoy made up his mind about being in love with Ginny Weasley, as preposterous that the idea might have seemed, he did not dissemble. Turning to her, he told her as much, his voice sure and clear. He never was one for self-doubt. Her eyes lit up.

There was the war to worry about, of course, but that turned out to be less of a worry than Ginny had expected. The problem, and one that Voldemort seemed to have overlooked (which was little wonder, as Hermione observed, given the megalomania), was an obvious one. Voldemort seemed to have forgotten the self-serving nature of the many former Slytherins within his ranks. Self-preservation before and above all else. Which meant that once some of them calculated risks and benefits they had no problem stepping over to the other side. Lucius Malfoy was among the first and most significant, taking many of his own private supporters with him. This had less to do with changed opinions and more with a price too steep to pay. These turncoats were treated with expected suspicion, but came to be grudgingly tolerated, if not accepted, once they began talking. Lucius Malfoy was a particularly rich mine of all sorts of useful information. Harry sometimes joked that Voldemort should have gone with Hufflepuffs instead. At least _they _were loyal.

Give or take twelve months after Malfoy and the rest of his year left school, there had been a victory ball, following a one year commemoration of the fallen, of which there were fewer than expected given Voldemort's thinned ranks. Ginny Weasley wore freshwater pearls and a flowing set of dress robes, neither of which was key to her happiness. She went with someone entirely wonderful: Draco Malfoy, surprising as that conclusion would have been back at school, when she had been agonising over the Yule ball. He led her in a desperate sort of waltz, while her eyes were brimming over. Her hands dug into his shoulders as they twirled.

OOO

In the middle of a serious conversation with Blaise Zabini, Malfoy did not appreciate his long-time friend rolling his eyes.

"Well, why don't you just marry the girl already and shut up about it?" Zabini, of course, with familiar exasperation.

"Well, maybe I will!"

And he did.

Fin.

12


End file.
